


No Better Love

by spacebuck



Series: Wild At Heart [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anal Sex, Beard Burn, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bingo Fill, Bottom!Bucky, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Homecoming, M/M, Multiple Orgasms, Nomad Steve Rogers, Oral Sex, porn with some feelings thrown in, valentines day, zookeper bucky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 15:33:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21181790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacebuck/pseuds/spacebuck
Summary: It’s typical, really. He never really did the big VD thing, even the last time he was dating, but now that he has Steve – his literal actual soulmate – he finds himself not necessarily wanting all of the performative stuff but wantingSteve.And it’s pathetic, really, he thinks. He’s gone so long without anyone or anything, then he dates a guy for six months and now he’s almost crying with how much he wants to just see his dorky smile, curl up against his chest. Bucky hates it, hates that his stupid emotions are all over the place because of a stupid holiday.





	No Better Love

**Author's Note:**

> i've been fighting writer's block, so threw something together to try and break through it. there was going to be more to this, but i needed to throw the monkey off my back so it's going up just as a pwp - if i do write the rest, i'll add it as another chapter.
> 
> This also fills a few prompts for various challenges!  
Stucky bingo: shrunkyclunks, happy Steve bingo: nomad, spooktober: sleepovers

Bucky locks the front door behind him and leans back against it, taking a deep breath. Valentine’s day at the zoo was always a nightmare and today was no better – couples upon couples leaving an ache in his chest, their lovey-dovey bullshit just another reminder that Steve wasn’t here.

It’s typical, really. He never really did the big VD thing, even the last time he was dating, but now that he has Steve – his literal actual soulmate – he finds himself not necessarily wanting all of the performative stuff but wanting _Steve_. And it’s pathetic, really, he thinks. He’s gone so long without anyone or anything, then he dates a guy for six months and now he’s almost crying with how much he wants to just see his dorky smile, curl up against his chest. Bucky hates it, hates that his stupid emotions are all over the place because of a stupid holiday.

He scrubs his face, sighs. Levers himself up off the hardwood and crouches to unlace his boots. After he kicks them off, Bucky heads for his bedroom, the small master bathroom calling his name. He turns the shower on to warm it up, strips off, just breathes in the steam starting to seep out of the shower cubicle.

When he steps in, it’s almost hot enough to burn, definitely hot enough to wash away the stink of his day. He grabs the shampoo, lathers his hair. Imagines his fingers are Steve’s, long and thick, calluses as familiar as his own now. Steve doesn’t magically appear, but the slow warmth in his gut doesn’t seem to mind.

Bucky shifts back under the spray of water, rinses the shampoo out then gets started on the conditioner. The feeling builds, warm and affectionate with nowhere to go. While he waits for the conditioner to soak in, Bucky drops a hand, scratches at his stomach a little. His skin is warm from the water, and he doesn’t resist the urge to slide it a little lower.

Steve is… Steve – gorgeous, funny, an absolute sweetheart, and Bucky wouldn’t give him up for the world, but he’s also handsy as fuck when he wants to be, which is always when Bucky’s not wearing much – or anything at all. So, when Bucky imagines Steve’s hands on his skin, it’s the memory of hundreds of shared showers driving him.

He doesn’t get ahead of himself, allowing just a couple of teasing strokes before he rinses his hair out, scrubs himself down with soap, then his favourite body wash. A rinse, then he’s stepping out of the shower. It’s too quiet without the thunder of water, and Bucky rushes to towel off, then starts to rub at his hair as he walks back into the bedroom to look for clothes – or not, if the half-chub he was sporting had anything to say about it.

He scrubs at his hair a little more vigorously than he usually would, almost misses the low rumble of “Well, _that’s_ a welcome.”

Bucky yelps. There’s no other word for it – he yelps, high and pathetic, and throws the towel in the direction of the voice, scrambles backwards even though backwards only leads to the dead-end bathroom.

Then his brain catches up and he processes what’s happening, processes the amused man sitting on his bed, processes the smile and the soft swoop of hair and the hand outstretched towards him, towel firmly caught in it.

“Steve?” Bucky says, even though it’s obviously him. He takes a step forward as Steve stands, then another, then he blinks and he’s in Steve’s arms, squeezed tight and surrounded by him. He curls his fingers against Steve’s back, presses his forehead to Steve’s sternum, just breathes him in for a second. It’s been three weeks – three weeks too long when you’re used to seeing your soulmate every day – and Steve’s presence is like a balm on his soul, on a wound he didn’t know existed until it was gone.

A thumb on his chin, nudging, and Bucky lifts his head, cups Steve’s cheek in one hand. The hair prickles his skin, so he strokes until it sits smooth, looks up to meet Steve’s gaze. “What on earth is this?” he says before he can think of anything else, and Steve laughs in a low rumble, dips his head and kisses him. Steve’s lips are softer with the surrounding coarseness of hair, and the kiss is soft, sweet. Steve strokes a big hand down Bucky’s back, pulls him in a little tighter, and Bucky gasps at the cool touch of Steve’s jacket zipper against his skin. Steve’s so warm against him, his next kiss a promise, sharp and real and _here_.

“Disguise,” Steve says against his mouth, shifting his shoulders to let his jacket slide off his arms and onto the bed. “Kept it, thought you’d like it.”

Bucky likes it.

He slides his hands up the back of Steve’s shirt, kisses him with more teeth, and Steve grins against his lips for a second before he commits to what he’s doing. Bucky whines in the back of his throat, pushes his hands higher, and Steve pulls back just long enough to get his shirt off before pulling Bucky back in. Bucky takes in a shaky breath as Steve’s mouth lands on his throat, tastes the drops of water at the base of Bucky’s throat, chases them up his neck to mouth at his ear. He grabs tighter, fingers digging in a little on Steve’s back before he gets out, “Are you hurt?”

Steve shakes his head, rubbing his nose against the shell of Bucky’s ear as he does. It sends a shiver up his spine, and Bucky slides his fingers down, wedges them under the waistband of Steve’s pants.

“Just a few bruises,” Steve says, and it takes Bucky a minute to remember what he’d asked. Before he can reply, Steve’s adding, “I missed you,” and weakening the already virtually non-existent willpower Bucky had to resist him.

Bucky swallows, licks his lips. Takes a breath and lets the words out on it. “Show me how much.” Steve’s smile has teeth.

There’re hands on his hips, pulling, urging, and Bucky goes where he’s moved, straddles Steve’s thick thighs and presses himself into all that warm skin of Steve’s chest. One of Steve’s hands moves, cups Bucky’s jaw and pulls him in and kisses him and _kisses_ him, until Bucky’s gasping for breath, half-chub thickening out just from the heat of Steve’s stomach against it. The little twitches of his hips are subconscious, something Steve pulls out of him with just a kiss, and Steve urges them on with a hand at the small of Bucky’s back. The rough fabric of Steve’s pants is coarse against his inner thighs, rubbing with every movement, and something pushes its way through to the forefront of Bucky’s mind, something that he can’t help but voice.

He pulls back just a little, just enough to speak, and drags fingers over Steve’s beard, messes up the strands. “Gonna mark me up with this?” He asks, digging his nails in a little, scratching, and Steve rumbles out a groan. Bucky leans in, commits, rubs his cheek over those bristles until he can feel the burn of it on his jaw.

Then Steve’s clutching at his hips, fingers splayed over the skin and keeping him tight as Steve turns them both, dumps Bucky onto the bed. Steve keeps rolling, ends up braced on top of Bucky, his inner caveman making an appearance as he says, “You want that? Want me to mark you as mine?” It’s hot – Bucky knows that Steve knows – and Bucky arches into Steve’s mouth as it descends on his throat, nipping at the skin.

“Yeah,” Bucky says without hesitation, letting his head fall back further as Steve sucks a bruise into his throat, then rubs his jaw all over the tender skin. Bucky pushes up into Steve’s chest, clutches at his hair, silently begging, and Steve pushes him back down with a hand on his chest, fingers splayed wide. He’s rewarded almost immediately after though, the hand moving down as Steve’s mouth takes its place. Lips press against the centre of his chest, soft, then a moment later there’s a sharp bite, teeth grazing the edge of his nipple.

Bucky gasps, and Steve works his way down his body methodically, spending far too much time and yet not enough time in any one particular place. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s hip, and his voice is a growl as he says, “Turn over.”

A pause, slightly too long for Steve’s liking apparently, as the hands on his hips grip tight and he finds himself lifted, turned, and _god_ it’s so easy to forget how strong Steve is until he flexes it, and it lights Bucky up from the inside. Bucky’s mostly dry from lying on his back, but there’s a few drops clinging to the small of his back, down the valley of his spine. He can feel it, and knows what Steve’s going to do almost before he does it. Then there’s the warm touch of lips at the base of his neck, then Steve’s chasing those drops of water down.

When he reaches the bottom, Bucky’s shifting, unable to stay still at the light touches, the promise in the body braced over him. He arches his back to stick his ass out in blatant invitation, whines low in his throat when Steve just nips the curve of one cheek, a big hand just holding the other, possessive. Steve grins against his skin, the movement dragging his beard over sensitive skin, and—_oh_. His forehead hits the pillow, and Steve notices, of course he does, because he murmurs, “there you go,” in a tone that should be patronising, but just seems proud.

“C’mon,” Bucky says, and Steve doesn’t let him finish, spreads Bucky’s ass and leans in. Hot breath, then Steve’s pressing in, soft little kitten licks as the edges of his jaw rub, burning Bucky’s skin.

Bucky doesn’t remember much, after that. Steve’s weight settling between his legs. Harsh sobs coming from – somewhere, him probably. A wet tongue, dragging, pushing. Warmth, pooling in his gut. The burn of coarse hairs.

Bucky takes a shuddering breath in, and in, and in, the oh, oh, _oh, _met with an answering rumble. He gets his hands under him, claws at the comforter and pushes back into Steve’s mouth. Moans again, shaky. Something presses alongside Steve’s tongue, rubs, slides in deep, and the pressure of it has Bucky’s toes curling. Close--he’s so close—so-

It hits him hard, makes him shudder, and he curls in on himself. His hips jerk away from Steve but he’s held tight, pinned as the feeling tightens his gut. His cock throbs as he comes, and he wedges a hand under himself, curls it around his cock and just holds on. A sob tears free, and Steve lets up, a final lick making Bucky’s calf twitch.

Steve pulls back, the air filling the space cool, and he shivers, nerves firing all over his skin. “Touch me,” he says, voice ragged. “Don’t let go.”

Hands land on his ass again, spreading his cheeks, and as the sharp pleasure fades Bucky becomes more and more aware of the small aches, the pull of abused skin.

“Baby,” Steve purrs, drags his thumb over skin that makes Bucky gasp. Pain flares, but it’s good, so damned good, a reminder that Steve’s here with him as much as the hands on his skin are.

Steve’s grip loosens, and Bucky takes the opportunity to gather his sprawled limbs, rolling onto his back and letting his arms flop out again. “Shit,” he mumbles, Steve’s hand gripping his ankle and sliding up, warm. Bucky tips his chin down to look at Steve and – yeah, he has a right to look smug. “C’mere,” he mumbles, holding out his hands, and Steve grins wider, shifts up to brace himself over Bucky.

He’s too far away. Bucky reaches up and grabs his shoulders, pulls him in. Steve complies, slowly drops down until his bulk is pressing Bucky into the mattress. His cock digs into Bucky’s stomach, and Bucky hums, drags his hands down Steve’s back. He grabs at Steve’s hips, his ass, encourages him with a tug. Steve bites off a groan, buries the sound in Bucky’s shoulder, and his hips hitch up against Bucky’s stomach.

“You can,” Bucky gets out, stops. “If you want.” He hitches his hips up, and Steve’s hand tightens in his hair, his head lifts to kiss Bucky hard enough to dent the pillow.

“Bucky,” Steve says, so Bucky looks at him, letting Steve see what he wants, letting Steve see what he’s offering. “Yeah?” He asks, voice low, warming Bucky up from the inside. “That what you want, honey?”

Bucky brings his hands up, strokes Steve’s cheek, curls against the nape of his neck. “I want you,” he says, as seriously as he can. Steve kisses him again, bites at his lip, then pushes up onto his hands. He leans, rattles around in the nightstand like he owns it, even though it’s _Bucky’s _side of _Bucky’s _bed. Bucky waits him out, stretches his hands over his head and leaves them there, draped over the pillow. When Steve turns, he looks Bucky up and down, like he’s assessing, then presses another biting kiss to Bucky’s mouth. His tongue is hot against Bucky’s skin as he drags his mouth down, licks at one of his nipples.

As Bucky’s back arches, instinctive, nerves jangling as his body wakes up again, there’s a click of a cap. Steve doesn’t ask again, just gives a worrying bite to his pec as his knees shift up, spread Bucky’s thighs wide. A steadying hand on his hip, then the cool press of a slicked finger, rubbing against the soft skin behind his balls.

He gasps, can’t help it, the shocked little sound earning him a soothing hand on his hip. A gentle rub against that sensitive spot, then Steve’s finger is sliding back, dragging over damp skin to find his mouth-loosened hole. He rubs, gentle, then inches a finger in, pressing kisses over Bucky’s skin. Bucky just sighs, drops a hand to thread it in Steve’s hair, strokes through the strands.

Steve’s methodical, careful, and Bucky encourages him with soft murmurs, quiet moans. It’s nice, even if his dick’s out of the picture, for now, the dragging fingers keeping the low hum of pleasure simmering under his skin, never too much, just _there_. A wayward curl has Bucky’s hips jerking up though, a reminder of what Steve does to him, what he _can_ do to him. Steve doesn’t press though, just goes back to his steady stretch, satisfied for now with what he’s doing.

It’s an age before Steve sits up on his knees, slides those fingers free. Bucky’s cock has started to firm up again, from Steve’s steady attention, and he bites his lip, looking down to where his soulmate is settled. Steve wipes his fingers on the comforter and Bucky nudges him with a heel, grumbling wordlessly. It’s forgotten quickly when Steve’s big hands land on his waist, fingers splayed wide, thumbs stroking up the lines of muscle. “Okay?” Steve checks in again and Bucky nods, wordless.

Instead of shifting forward, Steve sits back, uses his grip to haul Bucky’s hips up into his lap. The easy display of strength startles a squeak out of Bucky, and he wraps his ankles around Steve’s waist, holding on. The heady press of Steve’s cock is everything Bucky wants it to be, warm, heavy, and he arches his back, grabbing onto one of the hands at his waist. “Steve,” he breathes out, wanting, then there’s pressure, the thick slide as Steve pushes in.

He’s hyperaware of every inch, his own arousal settling warm in his gut, not urgent, just present. Steve’s big all over, and that heavy cock opens him up like nothing else does, and every second of it is at the forefront of his mind. Steve groans, head tipping back, and Bucky wishes he could paint, could capture just this moment, just to immortalise that slack jaw, the slick wetness of parted lips, the surrounding hair all pushed out of place. “Yeah,” he says, unable to help himself, gripping at whatever he can. “Yeah, Steve.”

Steve’s head falls forward, eyes open to slits, and what Bucky _can_ see is dark, pupil all blown out. He holds Bucky’s hips still, rocks forward in a slow grind, then does it again, and again. He keeps at it, eyes fixed on Bucky’s skin, trailing between his face and his cock, and Bucky wants to pull him down, wants to kiss that look off his face, wants to kiss him until he’s speeding up, taking what he – _they both_ – want.

But he doesn’t stop, not ‘til Bucky’s fully hard again, cock nudging up against his belly. He rolls his hips once, twice, then draws his hips back a little, shoves back in. Steve’s patience must have snapped finally, because his next thrust is deeper, harder, until he tips forward, pressing Bucky into the mattress. Bucky presses up, cock caught between their stomachs, and moans, shaky, when Steve stays there, pinning him as his hips work.

Steve’s showing some godawful sort of restraint, and Bucky manages to get out, “In me, please.” Steve makes a strangled noise, and Bucky hitches his heels higher. He wants – he wants Steve to fill him up, to fill him up and keep going until he does it again until it’s leaking out of him with each thrust of Steve’s hips. “Please,” he says again, and Steve’s mouth slants over his. The kiss is possessive, more tongue and teeth than finesse, and Bucky makes a strangled noise, arms wrapping around Steve, fingers tangling in his hair. He thrusts again, hard, then stiffens up under Bucky’s hands, breath huffing out on a groan as he rolls his hips, slower than before.

“You’re so good,” Steve rumbles, hips hitching in and in and in. Bucky knows Steve’s body now, knows his reactions, and knows exactly when he’s coming. There’s the drawing down of his brows, the clenching of his jaw. The shiver that starts at the base of his spine and spreads, like the warmth he’s learning to recognise. He strokes his hands down Steve’s back, digs his fingers in a little in the spot where his back dimples, and Steve sets a wet kiss to his jaw.

Steve keeps his hips in tight, levers himself up onto his hands, then back onto his knees. Bucky’s legs are splayed over Steve’s thighs and he arches his back up under Steve’s heavy stare. Hands flex on his hips, and there’s a slow roll up, Steve’s eyes fixed on the spot they’re joined. He can hear it, the slick slide of Steve’s cock in him, and he groans, soft like he’s not quite able to take a full breath.

Steve’s hands grab onto his ass, heavy, and his thumbs dig in, pull apart. Bucky knows what he’s looking at and it sends a rush of heat through him. It makes him clench, desperate, and Steve makes a choked off noise. He thrusts up, in, and again, and again. He’s relentless, and Bucky lets himself float, knows Steve will hold him in place, knows Steve will keep him safe. Knows Steve will make him feel good.

A hand wraps around his cock an indeterminate amount of time later and it jerks Bucky back into his own body, into the writhing pleasure Steve’s giving him. Each and every thrust sends heat lancing through him, shakes him up on the inside with how good it feels. But, all of his focus is on the hand, warm and wet, stroking his cock in smooth, steady motions. With each pass there’s a nudge at the head, Steve’s thumb pressing up or swiping over, until it feels like it has a direct line to the coiling in his gut, pulling tighter and tighter with each stroke until, until-

Bucky shudders. Steve’s voice echoes in his ears as that twisting mass of heat in his gut finally loosens, his whole body tensing up as he comes. Steve fucks him through it, the steady press of his cock dragging out the orgasm, pulling Bucky thin as his muscles clench, jitter, jump. His mind goes blank, and somewhere above him, Steve is swearing.

His mind meanders its way back to his body, awareness breaking over him like a gentle wave. He flexes his toes, shifts his heels, now back on the mattress proper. He flexes his hips, gasping softly as he feels something shift, leak out slow. A hand, heavy on his hip then sliding down. Two fingers chasing that wet trickle back up, pressing into him deep, and Bucky groans, opening his eyes as his muscles shake, keep shaking.

“Shit,” he mumbles, voice as shaky as he feels. He lets his head tip sideways, places a messy kiss on the jaw that’s right there. Steve hums, sounding pleased, and the fingers pull out of him. A sound, like he’s wiping them off somewhere, then that hand is on Bucky’s jaw, guiding gently until Steve’s kissing him, soft and slow.

Bucky shifts as they pull apart, pushes himself over until he’s leaning against Steve’s bulk. Then, his boyfriend flops back and Bucky lands on his chest. It’s warm, solid under his hands, and Bucky can’t help it, drops his head, presses a gentle kiss right to where the steady thump of Steve’s heart is strongest.

“Good?” Steve says, voice a little scratchy, as though he doesn’t know exactly what he does to Bucky.

Bucky digs in his fingers, just a tad. “I don’t think I can walk,” he says, laughs a little in a puff of breath.

Ever the logical one, Steve says, “Then don’t,” as he strokes one big hand over Bucky’s hair, which is almost certainly a mess now. “Just stay here.”

Bucky levers himself up on shaky arms, looks down at his boyfriend, shivers a little as the movement leads to more of Steve’s come slides out of him. And that- “You think I’m gonna sleep like this?”

Steve grins, wide, a little sharp. “What if I-” he starts, and Bucky doesn’t know where he’s going, but he knows that if Steve goes anywhere near his ass again, he might actually die. So, he slaps a hand over Steve’s mouth.

Steve, the paragon of virtue, ultimate upstanding citizen, every bit his one hundred years old, licks his hand. Bucky growls under his breath in response, and Steve’s big arms come up around him, then he gets rolled until he’s on his back, Steve blocking out the light above him. “You,” Bucky says before he can speak, “Can take me back to the shower. Then you can carry me back here when I’m done, and then I’m going to sleep for fifteen hours because not all of us have superserum running through our dicks.”

There’s a snicker, then Steve’s pressing in for a quick kiss, soft and sweet. “I missed you,” Steve murmurs while he’s there, bumps their noses together. Bucky grabs onto his shoulders as Steve sits back, pulls Bucky into his lap.

Before Steve can stand, Bucky’s returning the kiss, brushing his lips over each corner of Steve’s first. “Missed you more,” he says. “Can you stay?”

A hum, and Steve pushes himself to his feet, Bucky cradled against his chest, arms and legs wrapped tight around him. “Yeah, long as you want,” he murmurs, and Bucky’s heart skips a beat because that, that right there, that’s everything Bucky could ever want bundled up in five little words.

“Tonight,” Bucky says, and Steve nods as he picks his way over the scraps of his uniform. “forever.”

“Forever,” Steve replies, smiling wide. Bucky hides the responding smile against Steve’s shoulder.

_Forever_. He can do that.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on [tumblr](https://spacebuck.tumblr.com) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacebck), though i'm most active on twitter!


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